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 That thought's like to murder me, Doctor Monro.

The boys cost you many a penny and shilling;

You breed'them with pleasure, with trouble, and woes

But one turns a rake, and another a villain.—

My heart could not bear it, dear Doctor Monro.

The lasses are comely, and dear to your bosom;

But virtue and beauty has many a foe!

O think what may happen, just nipt in their blossom!—

Ah! merciful Heaven! cease, Doctor Monro

Dear Doctor, I‘11 thank you to hand me my breeches;

I‘m better; I‘ll drink with you ere that you got,

I‘ll never more sicken for women or riches.

But love my relations and Doctor Monro.

I plainly perceive, were I wedded to Christy,

My peace and my pleasures I needs must forego.

He still lives a bachelor; drinks when he's thirsty,

And sings like a lark, and loves Doctor Monro,